


We Are All Parts of a Whole

by ColorsofaYinYang



Category: Original Work
Genre: Eldritch, Light Bondage, M/M, Not Beta Read, Plot With Porn, Ritual Sex, Slightly dubious consent, Teachers, Topping from the Bottom, University
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:55:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22057201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColorsofaYinYang/pseuds/ColorsofaYinYang
Summary: Ambrose learns there's more to teaching at the University of Egregore than he anticipated.
Relationships: Ambrose Wildings/Raymond Locke, Uptight New Professor/Laid Back Older Professor
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you know me in real life spare me the embarrassment and don't read this.
> 
> Day 4/Day 5: I've wanted to try my hand at writing sex for a while, but I always felt weird about it (as well as the fact that I'm not the best at it to begin with). Here is a self-indulgent universe I've had in my head for a while now. 
> 
> Chapter 1 is universe-setting, Chapter 2 is the "good" stuff.

Ambrose makes sure to get up extra early for his first day at work. He takes a shower first, does his hair, and makes sure his tie is done just right. He double and triple checks his bag, making sure he has the course notes with him, and downs a steaming cup of coffee. The rest of the pot goes into a thermos, and he’s out the door by 5:30.

  
The bus ride out to the university is long and boring; despite the caffeine Ambrose catches himself dozing off a couple of times. There are a few others making the journey as well: an elderly woman sitting near the back, a younger woman on her phone, and a handsome older man glancing through the pages of a paperback novel. They must be fellow professors, or perhaps staff at one of the campus stores.

  
He had always dreamed of teaching at an elite school. Driven by a hunger for knowledge, he had graduated and gotten his PhD in biology at the tender young age of 25. For the past couple of years he’s worked at a community college, building up his resume with work experience. Then one day an email from the University of Egregore popped up in his inbox. A job offer.

  
The University of Egregore has always been known for its exceptional staff and commitment to student inclusion. “We are all parts of a whole” has been the school’s motto for generations. Despite being located in the middle of nowhere, the graduation rate and subsequent job placement rate has topped the charts of any private university in the world. There was no way in hell Ambrose was turning the offer down. He had quit his job immediately and moved into an apartment in the nearest town to the campus he could find.

  
The bus eventually stops near the Union Building, and everyone gets off. Ambrose takes a peek at his map to make sure he’s in the right place and follows the rest of the passengers inside. There’s supposed to be a staff meeting in one of the lounges, and as a new professor he’s required to be there.

  
Dimly lit, the lounge is cozy and empty save for a few people milling about. Ambrose recognizes the man from the bus sitting at the far end of one of the tables. He folds his reading glasses and tucks them away in his pocket as he leans back casually, crossing one of his legs over the other. On the table in front of him sits his discarded book. He notices Ambrose staring and smiles loosely, beckoning him over.

  
“Hey. You new here?” He has a charming grin, Ambrose thinks absently. The man holds out a hand to shake. “Raymond Locke, literature department. Raymond or Ray works fine.”

  
Ambrose shakes his hand firmly, reminding himself to make a good first impression on his new coworkers. “Ambrose Wildings. I’ve just been recruited to the biology department.” He pauses, floundering for a good conversation topic. “How long have you worked here?”

  
Raymond chuckles. “Oh, I’ve lost track already. Time flies fast when you love your job, you know?” There’s a hint of a smirk playing around his lips, like there’s a joke only he’s in on. “You must be something special to be hired so young, though. How old are you, 26?”

  
“28 next month.” Raymond sighs, rueful. 

  
“Being surrounded by all these smart people really makes me wonder what I did in the first 30 years of my life to end up here.” He shrugs a little, a _what-can-you-do_ gesture. “I’m not a genius or a super hard worker like you. But everyone here shares their knowledge with each other, and that helps us all to grow.”

  
Ambrose nods, understanding the sentiment. “That’s one of the reasons I admire this school so much,” he admits. Raymond gives him an odd, fond look.

  
“I think you’ll fit right in.” People were trickling in as they had their conversation, and finally someone stands and calls the meeting to order. Everyone turns their attention to the chancellor, who says a few words about the goals of this year. Ambrose half-listens to the words, distracted by the newfound nervous feeling running up his spine. He jiggles his knee under the table, trying to calm himself down as the speech goes on.

  
After the meeting everyone starts filtering out of the room. Raymond smiles and gives a short wave, then disappears down the hall. Ambrose pulls out his map again and leaves to find his lecture hall.

  
Since he’s teaching entry-level biology, the class is fairly large- around 200 or so students. They come swarming in, the loud chatter filling the room. With his notes set up on the podium, Ambrose launches into his prepared explanation of the syllabus, complete with graphs of the expected curve and a layout of the statistics. 

  
After his second class of the day, he goes out to get lunch at the campus’ nearby grocery store. The prices are a little inflated, but there’s a surprisingly decent selection. He picks up a pesto sandwich along with a small container of cut up fruit and goes to pay at the counter. While he’s there, he can’t help but overhear a conversation some of the students toward the front of the line are having.

  
“Swetson seems kind of strict, but he’s one of the senior profs so he’s got to know what he’s doing, right?”

  
“I guess,” one girl says, sounding unconvinced. “Who knows what’s going through a teacher’s mind.” Ambrose huffs a little to himself, amused. 

  
“Well, were there any professors you actually liked?” Her friend asks. She thinks for a moment.

  
“I think Locke’s pretty cool. He seems real laid back- he didn’t even have a syllabus or anything.” Her friend makes a face.

  
“If I were in his class I’d rather have a syllabus. How else are we supposed to know how he grades?”

  
The cashier rings up Ambrose’s meal and he heads back to the hall. After teaching his last two classes for the day, he’s packing up his laptop and notes when he hears a knocking sound. It’s Raymond, peeking his head in through the door.

  
“Hey, heard you’re done for the day?” At Ambrose’s nod he continues. “Want to get a drink back at my place? It’s not too far from here.”

  
Ambrose wavers. On one hand, he’d rather head back home and work on his lesson plans, maybe catch up on some documentaries or read some peer-reviewed articles. On the other hand, he’s told himself this school will be different. He can make friends, perform social niceties and not be the stick-in-the-mud he was known as at his last job. 

  
Raymond gives him a puppyish look that should not work on a man his age. “Please?” 

  
Ambrose sighs and give a hesitant nod. “I suppose… a drink wouldn’t hurt.” He grabs his bag, double-checking that everything’s inside. “The students here are hardworking and attentive, but they’re… a lot.”

  
“You’ve got that right,” Raymond chuckles. “I had a kid that complained my PowerPoint slides had too many pictures on them. Too many! Ridiculous.” 

  
Feeling a little more relaxed, Ambrose laughs along. They walk along the sidewalk, swapping stories of a similar caliber.

  
The house is a quaint one-story building, with a large wooded area separating it from the neighbors. Inside, Raymond opens the curtains to let in some sunlight, revealing the minimalistic décor. Then he pulls a purple bottle out of a cabinet and uncorks it, pouring two small glasses.

  
Ambrose thanks him and takes a sip, perched on the edge of a kitchen stool. The wine is crisp, a little tart with oaky undertones. “This is really good, what is it?” he asks.

  
“Not really sure,” Raymond smacks his lips. “The chancellor gave a bottle to all the teaching staff at the end of last year.” He sighs quietly, gaze turning a little distant. “Listen.” His tone of voice turns a little serious, putting Ambrose on edge. “You seem like a good guy. An ambitious young thing like you’ll learn a lot from teaching here.”

  
“Thanks, but you don’t have to sell me on it,” Ambrose jokes, trying to break the tension. Raymond gives him a small, weary smile.

  
“Ah, well actually…” he trails off uncomfortably. “What if I told you there was another job requirement? One you weren’t told about at the beginning.”

  
A chill runs down Ambrose’s spine. “What do you mean?” The sunlight from outside fades away, leaving the kitchen only dimly illuminated. Raymond glances at his watch and chuckles weakly.

  
“We’re running out of time, but I’ll try to answer your questions as best I can.” Ambrose stands, feeling threatened, but then his eyes catch on what’s now outside the window. An endless black void of nothingness, stretching out as far as the eye can see. He slowly sits again, cocking his head slightly as he stares Raymond down.

  
“What are you?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The initiation.

“Hm. I think the question you should be asking is ‘What are we?’” Raymond shakes his head slightly, avoiding eye contact. He takes his glasses off, polishes them on his shirt, and puts them back on. “This university… we’re a bit different than the others. Working here requires an… initiation, of sorts.”

  
“And that would involve…?” Ambrose presses. 

  
Raymond huffs out a short sigh. “You’d have to have sex with me.”

  
Ambrose stops and thinks. In any other situation, he would have said no. Not that Raymond isn’t attractive (he’s always had a thing for older men anyway), but he’s always put work before being social or having “relationships.” But now Raymond is saying they supposedly need to have sex, and he’s acting all bashful as if it wasn’t his idea to begin with. It’s intriguing.

  
Then again, he doesn’t want to get fired so soon, just for blindly listening to any instructions given to him. He makes a decision. “Is there a way you could confirm I need to do this? Not that that-“ he points to the void outside- “isn’t impressive. But I need assurance I won’t be fired for this.”

  
“I could ask the chancellor to call you,” Raymond offers. Ambrose nods.

  
“That would be lovely. Now if I may-“ he stands up again and makes to leave. Then his phone starts ringing. Raymond gives him an innocent look. He answers the phone.

  
“Mr. Wildings,” the chancellor’s voice says through the receiver. “I hear you’re debating whether or not to follow through with the initiation.” 

  
Ambrose glances over at Raymond, shocked. “Yes?”

  
“I guarantee you, you will not regret what you do. It is a gift to work here. But, should you choose to resign, neither of us will stop you. We do not wish to force you into something you don’t want.”

  
He nods slowly. “I… I understand.” The chancellor sighs in his ear, a whoosh of static.

  
“You were chosen for a reason, Mr. Wildings. Your thirst for knowledge, your drive to teach others… you’d gain a lot from taking this job.” Her voice turns soft. “And I’m sure Ray will take good care of you. It’s been a while since he’s had an apprentice.” 

  
Raymond gives him an unsure smile, and that’s what seals the deal. He nods, more firmly this time. “Thank you, ma’am.” Then he hangs up.

  
Taking a few steps around the counter toward Raymond, Ambrose tilts his head a little, feeling more playful than he has in years. “How did you do that?”

  
Raymond watches his advance warily. “Like I said, you’ll learn a lot from teaching here.” Ambrose puts a hand on his shoulder and watches as he shudders under the touch. “So, you’ve decided?”

  
“I’ve decided.” Raymond hums.

  
“We should probably move somewhere else, then.”

  
~

  
“C-careful,” Raymond groans, hips flexing as he tries to stay still. Ambrose, perched on his cock, eyes the restraints keeping him strapped to the bed. Silk ties, strong and able to minimalize chafing. He sinks lower, watching the tendons in Raymond’s wrists strain into view as he gasps, shutting his eyes as his he bares his throat.

  
Ambrose braces himself on the other man’s chest and starts a slow, rolling pace, savoring every inch. He’s never been one for sexual escapades; the pulse and drag of Raymond inside him feels amazing, but what he’s really getting off on is the experience. The flood of new information he’s processing: what makes Raymond moan the loudest, where is he most sensitive, how he looks when he’s holding himself back in pleasure. His legs ache a bit. _Out of shape_, he thinks absently.

  
Raymond’s still not looking at him. Ambrose intends to fix that. He leans over and nips at the soft flesh under his chin, then sucks a bruise into existence in the curve of his neck. Raymond pants and gives a halting thrust upward, one shivery moment of pleasure, before he bites his lip and forces his hips back down to the mattress. 

  
Ambrose sits back up and clenches, smirking at the quiet “_shit_” that Raymond hisses out. He trails his fingers down the other man’s surprisingly sculpted stomach, studying the body that is so very different from his own. Then he meets Raymond’s eyes and _grinds_ down, making sure that length is balls deep in him. Raymond’s eyelids flutter, and he licks his lips unconsciously.

  
“Keep doin’ that and I won’t last long,” he mumbles. Ambrose rolls his hips a few more times and leans forward again, this time so close that his hair brushes the other’s face.

  
“What does sex have to do with the initiation?” he murmurs, keeping up a shallow pace. “Not that I’m complaining.” He moves a hand to his own dripping length, bobbing as he rides, and gives it a few teasing squeezes.

  
“You’re asking this now?” Raymond gives him a pleading look, then sighs when Ambrose nods his head. “It’s- ah! It’s a joining, of sorts… T-t-two becoming one, or something-“ he breaks off into a laughing moan as Ambrose begins riding him faster. “P-poetic, isn’t it?”

  
“You really are a literature teacher,” Ambrose tells him, amused. He squirms a little. “My legs hurt a bit, so you can fuck me now.”

  
Raymond closes his eyes. “Thank God.” Then Ambrose is hunched over him as he goes to town, desperate thrusts upward as he chases his release. Ambrose shifts a little and then his prostate is getting pummeled- _one, two, **three**_\- and he gets a hand around his cock as Raymond groans through clenched teeth and fills him up.

  
Suddenly there’s voices in his head, a ringing sound and the loud noise of chatter. He panics, overwhelmed by the sudden chaos, and tries to cover his ears. Someone starts yelling something and his heart is racing and the noise isn’t stopping…

  
The chancellor’s voice calls above the rest. “Ray, you might want to take care of your protégé. He’s giving us all a headache.” There’s a slightly amused and satisfied tone to her voice. 

  
Then he can hear Raymond calling to him, voice soothing and a lifeline. “Ambrose. Come on, focus.” Ambrose focuses on him, following the sound of his voice.

  
He opens his eyes. He’s lying on the bed, Raymond curled up around him and murmuring in his ear. There’s still a faint buzz of voices in his head, but it’s manageable and easily ignored. The silk ties on the corners of the bed have somehow been snapped clean through. He sits up and a trace of warmth curls out of him.

  
Raymond looks embarrassed. “Sorry,” he says, both out loud and in his mind. He looks gorgeously disheveled, and Ambrose tries to convey that to him. He flushes even more.

  
“So what now?” Ambrose asks. Raymond reaches for his hand and clasps it, looking him in the eye.

  
“Now, you’re one of us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's always the quiet ones...

**Author's Note:**

> I think it's safe to say I've never been a professor before so if there's anything wrong with my assumptions of how life teaching works feel free to (nicely) correct me.


End file.
